Idle Hands
by Jocose
Summary: Set in the lull between Combat and before that last 2 episodes of series 1, but no spoilers. Owen is bored,and Ianto proves something of an irrestible sitting duck


Owen pursed his lips and checked the floor for any obstructions, braced himself against the backrest of the chair, and then pushing hard with his feet, he propelled himself backwards towards the autopsy room arch.

Man and chair hurtled (briefly) backwards, then slowly ground to a halt no where near the target- he sighed, one of these days he'd make it as far as the top of those damned stairs if it killed him.

He had been wondering if putting some of that silicone spray on the wheels would help, trouble was too much and he could end up embedded in his own autopsy table!

Ianto wandered past, gave him a disgusted glance, then murmured, "Ever considered silicone spray?"

Owen glared after him, then murmured back, "Ever considered traction?" Before spinning the chair, and pushing off back towards his desk.

The wheel suddenly jammed, tipping the chair alarmingly to one side. Owen swore loudly and just managed to stop himself from falling off.

Ianto turned back, surveyed the incident with a large degree of smugness, then put on his _gosh I'm so helpful _ look, coughed apologetically at Owen, then said, "I'll get you a screwdriver, shall I?"

Owen glanced back at him, "Rather have a double scotch... mixed stuff like that's a bit airy fairy- don't you think?" He raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

Ianto blinked, mentally bit his tongue and turned away. "I meant the **metal** variety, you use to fix that," he said vaguely, wandering off towards one of the storage cupboards.

"Fix what?" Owen asked innocently, at the same time trying to force the chair closer to his desk, desperate to avoid the indignity of having to stand up and carry it. The resulting sound of metal snapping only adding to his woes.

The familiar sound of the door rolling open, signalled the arrival of Jack Harkness. Pausing briefly, for dramatic effect, (although why he bothered was a mystery- no one took any notice) he glanced around, looking to see if any of his team were even remotely interested in the fact that was now in the hub- they weren't!

Shrugging his resignation of the fact that, not even being the boss got you any attention, he took the steps to the first level, two at a time, then stared at Owen.

Tilting his head to one side he asked him, "Do you always sit at that angle or are you just pleased to see me?"

Owen blinked, did the best baffled expression he could muster at short notice, and glancing towards Jack, responded to his question with,"You what?"

Jack sighed, held his hand upright, then slowly tilted it to the left, leaning slightly with it, "Another one bites the dust?"

Owen bounced gingerly up and down on his chair, "Nah! safe as houses," and then stared, fascinated, at the display screen in front of him.

Jack shrugged and marched towards his office, murmuring as he passed him, "Don't look now I think you've got severe subsidence."

As Jack arrived at the doorway to his office Ianto appeared, screwdriver in hand, the two exchanged a pained look. Murmuring, "Rather you than me," he carried on past him, then took off his coat, sighing at the pile of paperwork covering his desk.

Ianto watched briefly, then turned towards Owen, who seemed to be attempting to find an angle he could lean in, that would make it look like there wasn't a problem with his chair.

Ianto walked back, screwdriver at the ready, standing quietly next to Owen, waiting for him to acknowledge he was there.

Finally bored with ignoring him, Owen sighed, moved to push backwards, then luckily remembered just in time not to, instead he settled for leaning back slightly. Folding his arms across his chest, he looked up at him.

Ianto peered down his nose at Owen, "Would you like me to fix it for you?" he asked politely, waving the screwdriver enthusiastically.

Owen sniffed, and glanced down at the toe of his shoe, wriggling his foot thoughtfully. "Tell you what, exchange is no robbery, you sort this out for me and I'll lance that boil on the back of your neck," he said, looking up to see what the other man's response would be.

Ianto gave him a bored look, "I don't have a boil on the back of my neck."

Owen shrugged, "Please yourself... can't say I didn't offer," he said standing up, then watching as Ianto crouched down to take a look at the chair. Owen peered at the back of Ianto's neck, sucked in air noisily through his teeth, and murmured, "It'll be a biggie."

Ianto straightened up, and glared back at him, "I do not have a boil on the back of my neck," he retorted angrily.

Owen put out his hand as if to calm him down, "No, course you don't," he agreed in a conciliatory voice. "I'm just a doctor, what the hell would I know about boils?" he gave him a put on smile, nodded briefly and murmured, "Think I'll go and dissect something," then walked slowly towards the autopsy stairs.

Ianto stood uncertainly, trying to make his mind up if he trusted Owen or not, finally cracking under the strain, he sighed, "Okay... I believe you," then reluctantly added, "Go ahead- do it."

Owen smirked briefly to himself, then turned back to face him, his expression now helpfully eager.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to be accused of...malpractice, now do I?"

Ianto took a deep breath, " 'Course I trust you," he said, sounding less than convincing.

Owen grinned, beckoning him with crooked finger, "Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly!"

Ianto walked reluctantly past him and down the steps into the autopsy room, Owen followed him grinning.

Jack Harkness sighed and sat down heavily in his chair, he groaned, he really, **really** hated paperwork. The words _towards a paperless society_, flipped briefly across his mind, he shook his head- how many times had he heard that one? He glared across at the stack of folders, if that lot was anything to go by, it probably wouldn't be the last!

Glancing out of his office, he watched as Ianto fussed around Owen's chair, occasionally giving the other man disgusted looks. Owen as usual hovered expectantly, waiting for any chance that might present its self to annoy him.

Jack couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could guess, and if Owen's expression was anything to go by, Ianto was about to get targeted.

Shaking his head slowly, he wondered vaguely, what was it about Ianto, that he seemed to consistently tweak Owen's rather twisted, sense of humour, more often than anyone else did?

Owen moved towards the autopsy archway. Jack saw a smirk spreading slowly across his face. Uh oh! he knew only too well what that meant.

Owen turned slowly back, his expression now of total innocence, tinged with just enough concern. Jack watched as Ianto's reluctance crumbled, and he moved slowly past Owen and down the autopsy steps.

Curiosity now having got the better of him, Jack stood up quickly and walked over to the seating area, perching on the wooden arm of the settee, his knees facing the autopsy arch, he glanced inside, and waited.

Two voices echoed up towards him, he settled himself and listened.

Owen hooked a circular chrome stool with his foot, then pulled it towards him, indicating for Ianto to sit down on its leather seat. Ianto glanced down at the stool, then over at Owen, if ever a man suspected a trap at that moment, he clearly did.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Ianto, I'm hardly likely to do anything serious to you, now am I?" Owen blinked slowly. "Besides, Jack's upstairs, he's hardly going to miss you screaming your sodding head off, is he?" He said defensively, then picked up a metal waste paper bin and shoved it into the other man's hands.

Ianto looked baffled, peering down into the bin suspiciously, "What the hell is this for?" he demanded, glaring up at Owen, who grinned back at him.

"Something for you to do- just in case," he said cheerfully, turning away from him.

Ianto catapulted upwards, at the same time, clutching at the bin to stop it from falling to the floor.

"In case what?" He yelled back, his voice going up an octave.

Owen shrugged, turning away. "Thought it would give you something to read," he said, turning suddenly back to face him, a large surgical bone saw in his hand.

Ianto's face instantly drained of what little colour it had left, he grabbed at the autopsy table for support, "You can't lance it with THAT!" he yelled plaintively.

Owen looked benignly towards the other man, his eyes betraying nothing but wide eyed innocence. He glanced down at the saw, as if he had forgotten he was holding it, then waved it thoughtfully towards Ianto, who backed away, almost falling over the stool.

Owen slowly shook his head, then turned back towards a bank of equipment on a metal trolley behind him, flipping open the top of the sterilising unit, he dropped the saw into it, closed it up again, prodded the on switch, then turned back to face Ianto, who was standing wide eyed, clutching the end of the autopsy table, and looking for all the world like a frightened rabbit, transfixed by the headlights on an oncoming juggernaut.

"Ianto?" Owen took a step towards him, the other man's mouth seemed to be attempting to say something, then he gave up and gulped. His next step forward made Ianto back away from him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, for a split second wondering if he had, perhaps, carried the joke a little too far.

Ianto pressed his lips together and nodded briefly, "Your not going to use that then?" he enquired, eyeing Owen suspiciously.

Owen's eyebrows slowly arched upwards, "What!" he exclaimed, then laughed, "I'm lancing a boil, not trying to bloody well decapitate you, you berk!"

Ianto blinked, mortified that he had misunderstood, and too nervous to realise that he had been tricked.

"No, 'course not," he mumbled, then moved slowly back towards the stool, and sitting back down, he attempted to take his mind off what Owen was doing, by looking at the contents of the bin.

Owen pinged the surgical gloves theatrically, and glanced at the back of Ianto's neck, he smirked, picked up the scalpel, and in his best doctors voice, murmured, "You won't feel a thing," then watched in amusement as Ianto's neck stiffened noticeably.

His hand hovering over the man's exposed skin, he allowed the blade to brush against a few hairs, then he straightened up, and said, "You know I don't have to do this now, we could leave it for a couple of days."

Ianto's nerves were rapidly approaching snapping point, "Bloody well get on with it will you?" he yelled, gripping the bin desperately.

Owen licked his lips, and suppressed a large grin, "As long as your sure," he murmured, and moved in for the kill.

Ianto gulped, and glanced down into the bin.

Something caught his attention, and grabbing the corner of one of the pieces of paper, he waved it suddenly above is head, narrowly missing Owen's nose, and causing him to swear loudly, then back away in an attempt to avoid stabbing either of them with the scalpel.

"What's this doing in here?" he yelled, glaring at Owen, who attempted to see what it was, then finally gave up and shrugged.

"As long as it's not attempting to bloody well breed with the rest of the crap in there, I can't say I'm all that bothered," Owen commented, sniffing and peering at Ianto from under hooded eyelids.

Ianto was now on his feet, still waving the offending item at Owen, clearly rendered briefly speechless by the other man's comments.

"Its important that you keep this," he wailed plaintively.

"No it isn't," retorted Owen. "It says DEFRA on it, since when has that got anything to do with me?"

His mouth dropping open, Ianto stared at Owen, "I sent you an email about it," he announced a warning note in his voice.

Owen blinked, a pained expression on his face as he tried to remember what the last messages he'd had from Ianto had been about.

"Well, there was one about yoghurt," he suggested, vaguely, trying to recall the headings he'd scanned through, before hitting the delete button.

"DEFRA, DEFRA," Ianto bellowed, threatening him with the offending item.

"All fall down," responded Owen, smiling winningly and waiting for Ianto's face to slowly start to redden.

Ianto looked like was about to explode, "Foot and mouth," he yelled, "You need to know this!"

Owen slowly shook his head, "Nah, since when have schools needed a directive for foot and mouth? Well I suppose if its in the middle of nowhere it would, with sheep," he shrugged. "Shouldn't farming and what not deal with that?" he murmured vaguely.

Ianto's frustration had now reached boiling point, "DEFRA is farming and what not you idiot!" he hissed at him.

Giving him an exaggeratedly patient look, Owen sighed. "DEFRA," he said calmly, "Is the department of education and..." he hesitated, trying to remember what the _F _was for, shrugged and added, "Whatever... MAFF covers foot and mouth."

"No it damned well doesn't, it all changed, and you need to know this Owen," Ianto was now rapidly reaching screaming pitch, and Owen was clearly getting bored.

Jack stood up and wandered onto the autopsy landing, leaning on the guard rail, quietly watching the two, as they yelled and swore at each other by turns.

"Fascinating as all this is... haven't either of you got any real work to do?"

Both men jumped and stared towards him. Jack grinned back at them, "So, what exactly were you supposed to be doing?" he said giving Owen an enquiring look.

Owen sniffed, and waved his scalpel at Jack, "I was lancing a boil."

"Nice! Anyone I know?" Jack enquired.

Owen jerked his head in Ianto's general direction, then turned away, and pulled open one of the trolleys drawers. Finding what he had been looking for, he turned back to Ianto and shoved a collection of plasters into his hand, then forced him back down onto the stool.

"Look down," he ordered, pressed the blade briefly onto Ianto's neck, then held out his hand for one of the plasters. Ianto struggled with one, finally managed to get the wrapper off and handed it back. Owen stuck it onto his neck and stepped back, admiring his handy work.

"Give it a couple of days before you take it off, should be fine then," he murmured turning away, no longer interested.

Ianto stood up and shuffled his feet. "Thanks," he mumbled, and then took off up the steps, two at a time.

Jack stood watching Owen as he dumped the scalpel into the sterilising unit and then took off his surgical gloves and dropped them into the bin.

"I can't remember him having a boil," he said, looking straight at Owen, who glanced up at him, and shrugged.

"No?" he said, surprised.

"No," Jack responded bluntly.

Owen shrugged, "Must have, I just lanced it," then looked calmly back at Jack, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

"Owen, if I thought for one moment..." Jack never finished the sentence, giving the doctor a warning look.

"What was it you said you wanted that urgent report on?" Owen enquired, raising his eyebrows, his head dipping slightly to one side.

A lopsided grin spread across Jack's face, "I catch you doing that again..." he warned.

"Who, me boss?" Owen's eyes blinked innocently back, rebutting Jack's accusing look.

Jack shook his head slowly and turned away, leaving Owen humming contentedly to himself, as he wiped down the autopsy table.

The End


End file.
